


Play With Me

by Mx_BlackWayWentzDunStylesHemmings



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Creepy Brock Rumlow, Death, Forests, Happy Ending, Love, M/M, Moving On, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Rain, Sad, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Serial Killers, Snow, Steve Rogers Feels, Support Group, Umbrellas are vital to your love life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 16:31:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12112722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mx_BlackWayWentzDunStylesHemmings/pseuds/Mx_BlackWayWentzDunStylesHemmings
Summary: When Steve gets home, Bucky is nowhere to be found.





	Play With Me

**Author's Note:**

> First fic in the fandom so go easy on me. As i mentioned major character death, (but i promise there is a happy ending!). I really appreciate it when you tell me both what you liked and didn't like in the comments! On with the fic!

Bucky’s POV

 I could feel the cool tendrils of fog glide over my skin as I tore through the forest. The blood ran down my bare skin and onto the snow. Scarlet, a stark contrast to the pristine, untouched blanket.

 “Jaaaaames.” Says a soft, faraway voice.

 My pounding heart only beats faster as I hear the voice that will surely be etched into my mind until I die.

 “Won’t you come back and play with me?” The voice is closer, clearer, sharper.

 I am crashing through the forest, scraping my already cut up body more and more. My eyes fall onto my numb feet, now blue with cold.

 “I can hear you James.” The voice is now impossibly close. I use all my willpower to not look over my shoulder to see if those cold, dead eyes are watching me.

 I feel a sharp, excruciating pain in my leg, and I fall to the ground. I look back and see a gleaming silver knife buried deep in my thigh. The crimson liquid seeps out and rapidly creates a puddle around me.

 “How nice of you to wait for me.” I hear and am met with the eyes of my soon to be killer.

  
  
  


❄︎

  
  
  


Steve’s POV

Day 1:

 The keys jingle as I try to unlock our ever-sticking door. The lock finally clicks to the right and I yank open the door, rushing in to try and escape the cold.

 “I’m home, Buck!” I call out as I kick off my warm boots.

 I assume he’s busy, and go ahead with making our much-awaited dinner. I head into the kitchen and try to concoct something edible out of our non-existent food supply.

 45 minutes later I think I have come up with some pretty decent pizza, so I call out, “Food!”

 “Buck?”

 Due to his lack of an answer, I walk to the bedroom expecting him to be there. When I get there he is nowhere to be found.

 “Bucky?” I call out one last time.

 There is no reply.

 

Day 3:

 The detective says that there’s still a chance, but I know he’s gone. I can feel his absence. I am flooded with memories of us.

 

_ - _

_  It’s a Sunday afternoon and the sun shining through the window and onto my back. I feel the roughness of his thumb as he traces patterns from my shoulder to my thigh, then back again. I pretend to be asleep, but we both know I am wide awake. _

_  “I wrote a poem for you.” He says. _

_  “Would you like to hear it?” I nod my head. _

 

_ “Lover, oh lover of mine, _

_ Will you be my moon? _

_ I’ll shelter you up in darkness, _

_ Wrap you up in a star cocoon. _

 

_ So, lover, sweet lover of mine, _

_ Will you stay the night? _

_ Hold me in my bed, _

_ Until darkness turns to light?” _

 

_  I am rendered speechless, and I can feel the nervousness radiating off of him as he awaits my response. _

_  “So, what do you think?” He asks tentatively. And in that moment I just know. _

_  “I think I’m in love with you.” _

  
  
  


_  He’s so nervous. He keeps fidgeting with his scarf as we wander through the park. _

_  It’s January, which means there is snow over every inch of the city. And it’s cold, really cold, but the sun has set and you can see the moon and stars. _

_  I am just about to ask him why in the world he dragged me out here for no reason at midnight, when he stops walking and takes my hands. _

_  “Steve, I know you are probably wondering why this crazy man dragged you to the park in the middle of night in the dead of winter, but bare with me. I love you, more than I can express, and more than I probably should. I know I’ve told you a million times, but let me make it a million and one. You’re beautiful and smart and funny and amazing and you sing at the top of your lungs to your favorite songs even though you suck. You talk to me as if I am the only thing that matters to you in the world and you hate the entire planet until you’ve had at least 3 cups of coffee in the morning. When you draw you somehow always end up with graphite all over your face and never even care. Your laugh consists of snorting and hiccuping and wheezing, but I love it all the same. You always need exactly 2 pillows to sleep at night and hate it when there is even a sliver of light entering your bedroom, so you stuff blankets under the crack in the door. You have so many special things that make you who you are, and I only know some of them. I would love to spend the rest of my life getting to know the rest, if you would let me.” _

_  There are tears streaming down my face as he goes to kneel. He looks up at me with those beautiful blue eyes and pulls out a ring. _

_  “Stevie, my moon, will you marry me?” _

_  “Yes,” I barely manage to eek out before I start sobbing and tackle him to the ground in a deathly constricting hug. _

  
  
  


_  For our honeymoon he took me to Ireland. It’s not everyone’s ideal vacation spot, but I have wanted to go there all my life. He remembered this after I had said it months prior. He hates the cold, but he took me anyway. _

_  He booked us a little cottage on the coast for two weeks, and it’s beautiful. When you wake up and walk outside, you can smell the salt coming off the ocean and hear the waves crashing on the rocks below. It’s gray and dreary all the time, and Bucky is always pretending to complain about it, but it’s perfect, he’s perfect. _

_  He takes me to go stomping in puddles, then to eat stew at the little pubs he finds, then back out for more rain. _

_  We act like crazy children for our entire time there, but we do it together. _

_ - _

  
  


Day 8:

 They say they found blood. A lot. It was deep in the forest and there was too much of it for him to still be alive. I was expecting it, but the news absolutely crushes me. I guess I was holding on to that little sliver of hope that he would come home.

 I still remember the first moment our eyes met. It was pouring and I, being my forgetful self, didn’t bring an umbrella. I was walking down the sidewalk and all of a sudden the bone-chilling wetness lets up. I look up, and there in front of me is an adorably awkward guy with bright blue eyes. He’s holding an umbrella over my head, and because of his act of kindness, he is getting drenched.

 I thank God everyday for that rainstorm.

 

Day 21:

 I’m going to the store to buy some food, when I bump into some guy on the street. He turns to me and I see cold, piercing, brown eyes that are hard and unloving. I keep going and pretend that exchange never happened to keep myself sane. It suddenly starts to rain and I am getting colder and colder. No umbrella to keep me warm this time.

 

Day 183:

 The pain is still there everyday. Everything reminds me of him and I am back where I started in a heartbeat.

 The only thing that helps me is hiking through the forest, imagining that I might still find my Bucky. I almost always go to the spot where they found the blood. It’s creepy, I know, but I feel so much closer to him when I am there. Like he is in the trees around me hiding, waiting to come out and play in the rain.

 I haven’t been there in weeks and I am trying to find it now. I get there and I see a little sapling right where he last was.

 After all this time, I finally realize what I need to know in order to start moving on.

 Even with all the pain and suffering and loneliness that goes on in the world, good things can come out of it.

 Beauty can come from pain.

 

Day 689:

 It’s at a support group that I meet him. These days I mostly go to help the others there, I’ve made my peace with what happened.

 You see, our last group leader had recently moved away, and today we meet the new one.

 Whatever I was expecting, it wasn’t this.

 “Hey guys, I’m Sam,” he says as he pulls up a chair and sits with the rest of us.

 “I’ll just get straight to what you all are probably thinking, ‘Why is this guy the one to help us? He’s not even thirty! What could he possibly know?’” A few chuckles are heard among the group.

 “Well, I can help you because I get what you’re going through. I lost my husband, Riley, around 5 years ago. And after I got back on my feet I decided that I would use my life to help others who have suffered like me, so here I am.” He explained.

 “Now, I wanna get to know all of you, your turns.” He says as he gives the most charming smile I’ve ever seen.

-

 It’s raining when we all leave the building.

 I, for once, have remembered to bring an umbrella, so it isn’t to bad on me. Though when I look over I see Sam walk out in nothing but a t-shirt.

_  I swear Buck, if this isn’t some sort of sign I don’t know what is, _ I say in my head to him.

 I jog over to Sam and cover him with my umbrella, getting myself all wet.

 “Whoa, dude, you don’t have to do that, you’re already soaking!” He yells as he tries to shove the thing back over me.

 “It’s fine, someone once did the same for me.” I say as I refuse to move my arm.

 “Steve, right?” Sam asks as he finally gives up on shifting my arm.

 “Yeah.” I reply and smile at him.

 “How do you feel about taking a run with me sometime?”

 “I’d love to, but I’m not sure if what you’d call running is actually running.” I answer, smirking.

 “Oh, that’s how it is?” He says incredulously.

 “Oh, that’s how it is.”

 We head down the street to his apartment, and I think I’m finally okay.


End file.
